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Andrew's and Charles' eyes were full of confusion, both men instinctively leaning forward.
"What do you mean they'll come back?" Andrew asked, his brows furrowed so tightly they nearly touched.
Ava took a shaky breath, fingers twisting together in her lap. "I'm not completely sure... but those men, Jacob's men, they don't just walk away after humiliation. They always come back for revenge. Andrew, you should try to leave work early. Don't stay alone-"
Charles interrupted sharply. "How many of them are there?"
Ava hesitated, looking down at the floor as if counting ghosts. "There were ten of them the last time I checked. Maybe more now... I don't know. It's been years."
Andrew's mouth fell slightly open. "Ten? Jesus Christ-"
Charles muttered under his breath, "I should've killed that bastard instead of throwing him out."
Ava snapped her gaze up at him, eyes wide.
Charles ignored it. His voice firmed, authoritative. "Ava, you're coming to stay at my house tonight. I'm not risking anything happening to you."
"No, it's okay," Ava said quickly, almost too quickly. "I can stay with Mia. It's inappropriate for a student to stay in a teacher's house."
Before Charles could object, Andrew lifted a hand.
"Okay, Miss Innocence. I think you missed the part where this maniac beat up three dudes like they were tissue paper." Andrew jabbed a thumb at Charles. "No offense, but you and your friend? Yeah, you two would last about..." he snapped his fingers, "... half a second. Tops."
Ava opened her mouth to argue but froze. He's right... If they show up, Mia could get hurt. I can't risk her safety too.
"...Fine," she sighed. "I'll stay with Mr. Charles."
Charles' smirk was instant and absolutely victorious.
"You owe me one," Andrew whispered loudly to him.
Charles rolled his eyes, then turned to Ava. His voice dropped into something smoother, almost playful.
"From now on, when we're alone... just call me Charles. 'Mr.' makes me sound like someone's 70-year-old grandpa."
Andrew burst into laughter. "Oh, you are old. Mentally."
Ava let out a small laugh, light and soft, surprising even herself.
For the first time in so long, she felt... a flicker of happiness.
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♥A FEW MOMENTS LATER...♥
Ava sat stiffly in the passenger seat, watching the streetlights streak past the car window as Charles drove. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap.
We just went to my house to pick up clothes... so why did I pack everything? Why didn't he make fun of me? Why didn't he call me poor like everyone else?
Her thoughts spiraled with every passing second. And why does being alone with him make my heart beat so strangely?
"Ava," Charles said gently, slowing the car as they turned into a gated driveway, "we're here. Let's get your bags."
He reached for his door, but Ava straightened quickly.
"Wait. Just so you know... when this is all over, I'm leaving. Nothing is going to change between us." Her voice was firm, shaky underneath, but firm.
Charles paused... then he laughed softly. Not mocking. Not cruel.
He reached over and ruffled her hair, lightly, as if she were something fragile he was afraid to break.
"When you act tough like that," he murmured with a grin, "you look like an angry little cat." He pulled his hand back and stepped out of the car. "Don't worry. Nothing will change."
Ava's breath hitched, not because she was offended... but because she didn't know how to react to kindness anymore.
When she got out and looked up, her eyes widened. His house was massive, clean lines, tall windows, warm lights glowing inside.
"Does your job pay that well?" she asked, stunned.
Charles chuckled, pulling her suitcase from the trunk.
"You mean 'jobs.'"
"Jobs?" she repeated, following him as he headed inside. Her eyes roamed the polished floors, the tall ceilings, the expensive-looking art. "How?"
"I'm also a businessman," he said casually. "Teaching is just... a hobby."
Before she could ask more, he gently caught her wrist and guided her upstairs. His touch was warm and steady.
"This," he opened a door to a beautifully arranged guest room, "is your room. For now."
Ava stepped in, taking in the soft lighting, the fresh sheets, the delicate scent of lavender. She turned to him slowly. "Okay. And... thank you. For everything. I don't know how I could repay you."
Charles smirked, dangerously charming. He opened his arms wide.
"You could start by giving me a hug. Come on. I won't bite."
Ava's face heated instantly.
"H-hug you? Are you crazy? No!"
She turned away, crossing her arms, cheeks burning.
Charles leaned against the doorframe, completely unbothered. "Hm. So you'll trust me with your entire life," he teased, "but not with a five-second hug? I see how it is."
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Stop talking."
He laughed quietly, and the sound made her ears warm.
"Alright, Ava. I'll leave you alone-for now." He walked out, but paused at the doorway, looking back at her with a teasing tilt to his lips. "If you have nightmares... or if you get lonely... my room is right next door. Don't hesitate."
Ava's heart thumped painfully hard.
Why did his voice have to sound like that?
When he finally closed the door, she sank onto the bed and buried her burning face into her hands.
Why do I regret not hugging him?
He's done so much for me... why does he make me feel safe? And why... why does part of me want to stay longer than just one night?
The house was warm.
Warmer than anything she'd felt in years.
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3:34 A.M. - THAT NIGHT
A quiet, eerie darkness hung over the street as Jacob and his two men, Scott and Ryan, marched toward Andrew's shop. Their footsteps echoed against the empty pavement, slow and deliberate.
Jacob's jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein throbbed in his temple.
"That bastard's gonna regret ever laying his hands on me," he growled, wiping the dried blood from his lip.
Ryan snorted. "Can't believe he just threw you like a bag of potatoes."
Jacob shot him a death glare. "Say it again and you'll be the one I toss next."
Scott chuckled under his breath. "Relax, boss. We'll make him pay."
Jacob exhaled through his nose like an angry bull and nodded.
"Scott. Ryan. You have the gasoline and the lighter, right? Tonight, we're burning this place to the ground. That man wants a fight?"
He smirked darkly.
"He's getting war."
Both men grinned wickedly. "Yes, boss."
Their laughter echoed down the silent street.
Scott moved first, circling the shop like a predator, unscrewing the gasoline cap. The liquid splashed onto the ground, flooding the doorway, the walls, the windows, every corner he could reach. The sharp chemical smell filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Ryan followed behind him, eyes darting nervously. "Boss, you sure this is a good idea? What if someone sees-"
"No one's awake at this hour," Jacob snapped.
"Keep pouring."
When the ground gleamed with gasoline, Jacob stepped forward.
He flicked the lighter open, click, click, the flame dancing dangerously close to his fingers.
With a cruel grin, he dropped it onto the gasoline trail.
The fire caught instantly.
A loud WHOOSH ripped through the night as orange flames raced across the ground, crawling up the walls, swallowing everything in their path.
Jacob stepped back, watching the shop ignite.
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"Let's see how your friend likes this."
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TO BE CONTINUED...